


i’d never say it to your face [UNFINISHED]

by angealizms



Category: DreamSMP
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Arguing, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bad Parenting, Feelings, Gen, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Internal Conflict, Jschlatt is Toby Smith | Tubbo's Parent, Ram Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, Sheep Hybrid Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Sorry Not Sorry, Verbal Abuse, Winged Alexis | Quackity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:15:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angealizms/pseuds/angealizms
Summary: [UNFINISHED]there are things that happen so often you get used to them, but "used to them" is truly a cover-up for the things you’d never want to say straight to someone’s face, almost cracking yourself and your mouth spilling open with words until your mind becomes foggy. you’d wish you did that, it was always a thought that lingered in your mind, a question on a test that you couldn’t answer with only a few minutes on the clock. you rush it, check "no", and turn it in. the obviously wrong answer though the one you convinced yourself was completely right.or,.. i don’t know what i wrote or why i wrote it.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo
Kudos: 9





	i’d never say it to your face [UNFINISHED]

**Author's Note:**

> hi I made this while everyone in my house was fighting.   
> \- sometimes I get super off-track and sometimes immediately cut back to the actual like characters because my mind sidetracks and my hands are not writing what flows bc of it (basically; hands & mind sidetracks) so I apologize for that,
> 
> ALSO: sorry there isn't a lot of dialogue I tried my best but I'm better at long thoughts

jschlatt constantly regarded to quackity and tubbo as toys, pushing them around as if they were useless dolls shattering on the ground before picking up porcelain pieces and forcing them back together. there are things that happen so often you get used to them, but "used to them" is truly a cover-up for the things you’d never want to say straight to someone’s face, almost cracking yourself and your mouth spilling open with words until your mind becomes foggy. you’d wish you did that, it was always a thought that lingered in your mind, a question on a test that you couldn’t answer with only a few minutes on the clock. you rush it, check "no", and turn it in. the obviously wrong answer though the one you convinced yourself was completely right ; everyone turns and stares at you, digging it into your useless brain over and over again. yet you convince yourself you’re right, that what they’re whispering constantly is wrong, giving you stares from the back of your mind, everything growing dark.

infact, that was something quackity hated.

people staring at you judgingly, abhorring everything you say as in "they couldn’t care less". eye contact, the awkward tension and the - only then obvious - true feelings looking you in the eyes was an awful feeling he hated as well. these are the things that constantly lingered in the back of his mind, always bothering him relentlessly, but that seemed to quickly disappear when a (less than) reassuring hand was placed on his shoulder. not tubbo, no, but jschlatt. the smirk then other constantly wore on his face, the way it deceived, and yet quackity couldn’t feel more relieved. 

he doesn’t understand that.

there’s only so much hate you can bottle up for a person, but alex didn’t recall there being some kind of denial in which you convinced yourself you liked them, that you were one of their friends, some kind of sick, fake frenzy you have instead of snapping on them.

in quackity’s case, he’d gone as far to convince himself he loved jschlatt with everything he had.

is that really what it was?

the constant feeling seemed to disappear whenever jschlatt was around. that was yet another thing quackity didn’t understand. was it him suppressing it, trying so desperately not to burst right then and there?

especially not infront of tubbo. quackity’d never forgive himself. seeing tubbo’s tears run down his face right after he was out of schlatt’s sight, the way he sniffed and sobbed, trying to compress the noise as it slightly echoed, quackity rushing to his side to comfort him. he’d allow for tubbo to sneak out and try to cheer himself up, but as far as quackity knew he hadn’t completely been able to ever since tommy and wilbur had been exiled - of course, he didn’t fully know tubbo was a traitor, and honestly, he wouldn’t blame him. but schlatt sure would.

actually, speaking of schlatt, as soon as tubbo left, he went to see the president. the shitty president, the smoking president, the alcoholic president. hell, sometimes he wasn’t even sober during speeches. it was awful. barely any good memories ever radiated from the white house, no, rather they were stepped on, crushed completely.

[ .. ] soft knock with knuckles on a wooden door. the audible sound of "come in," though it didn’t sound very clear.

and of course, it wasn’t. of course he opened the door to find a half-drunk jschlatt, sitting at his desk with one hand lasily clamped around a bottle of some kind of alcohol - a label he couldn’t read - whilst the other hand rest under his own chin, propping his head up.

' quackity, ' the other’s words sounded vaguely slurred. he couldn’t help it when he internally cringed at the smell of alcohol perturbing from the man, even the room itself. it was usually just cigar. it was worse when you could taste it and haven’t stepped within 5 feet of the alcohol.

' jschlatt. ' he responded firmly, closing the door behind him. as soon as this, schlatt stood up, leaving the bottle at his desk and walking over to quackity, who stood frozen still like an upset statue. it wasn’t long before a hand was placed on his waist.

' stop, ' quackity started, glaring up at the taller male. by far, schlatt had ground, there wasn’t a way quackity could push him around. ' i’m here to talk about what you said to tubbo earlier. he didn’t take it very lightly. you know, you shouldn’t yell at him so much, he didn’t do anything to you. '

though schlatt’s hand did not retract from his waist, which ticked quackity off in the slightest, he responded, ' you know, maybe you should stay the fuck out of it, doll. '

furrowing brows. tubbo was his friend, a close one at that, though quackity didn’t usually dare talk back. wings folded and brown irises gazed off. he didn’t want to look at schlatt. but two fingers suddenly rested under his chin and forced his head up.

' is that understood? ’cause i don’t think i heard a fuckin’ answer. '

he had to find something to say. something to get the awful smell of alcohol and subtle cigar out of his face.

' actually, with all due respect, sir, tubbo is my friend, and he’s quite obviously your son, but regardless you treat him like shit, ' irises darted, ' but of course, you couldn’t care less, so understood. '

finally resting and narrowing brown eyes, though it wasn’t time for that. schlatt didn’t seem too happy with that comment, as no one would be. nobody likes the truth, not at all. unfortunately, jschlatt is still a person and runs with these rules.

' excuse me? you wanna fuckin’ repeat that? '

' not really, sir. you heard me, i know you did. '

at this point, he’s just fueling the fire he started. he wasn’t going to boil over, or he hoped so, but he’d surely stepped over some kind of invisible line of what to do around jschlatt, or at least, one of them certainly fucking did.

[PLACEHOLDER - unfinished.]

**Author's Note:**

> hey sorry for making you read this only for it to be unfinished uhhh yeah idk what to put here


End file.
